"I wanna be excited", he says.
"Don't ya wanna be excited?"
"Yes. I want to be excited" I repeat, resolutely.
As though it's a mantra and he's my Oprah-style life coach.
We're talking careers, of course, a captive and I. A subversive wag who reckons the profession's a bit dull.
I should probably tell the powers that be there's a propagandist in our midst.
But how many people are actually excited by their employment? What about the people who take photos of tins of spam, frozen dinners and six-packs of Coke for supermarket catalogues? Are they living the dream?
Did they chuck in jobs in Accounts Receivables to take photos for Rolling Stone, only to agonise over the best light under which to snap groceries to pay for their own?
I'm sure there's quite a knack to it - the lighting, that is.
Making smallgoods look enticing ain't for sissies, I'm sure.
But it's not exciting.
And maybe not everything needs to be.
Maybe the misguided belief that everything should be exciting just breeds discontent.
Oh, shut up.
He's right. Work this boring can't be right.
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